


Couples Therapy

by jane_x80



Series: Couples Therapy [1]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slash, Therapy, Undercover as a Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-05-13 17:43:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5711296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jane_x80/pseuds/jane_x80
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A serial killer is targeting married gay couples. Gibbs and DiNozzo pose as one such couple, attending couples therapy, in order to flush out and hopefully capture the killer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a short humorous fic based on comments received for the All I Ask series, recommending couples counseling for Gibbs and Tony (not at all in that 'verse). But then the story took on a life of its own and got more serious. Not crazy long, but I've broken it up into a few chapters. Will try to post a chapter a day (story is complete).

The remains of a third couple, one a Petty Officer, and his husband a civilian are found not far from where the other two couples had been dumped in a remote part of Shenandoah State Park. Ducky and Jimmy are able to confirm that the Petty Officer had been given a lethal cocktail of drugs intravenously, leading to massive coronary failure which was the official cause of death, and his husband, a kindergarten schoolteacher had had his throat cut, and then raped post-mortem. This all fit in with the first two couples, one connected to the Navy or the Marines, and the other a civilian, both couples were gay and married.

Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs’ Major Case Response Team has been working on the case since before it became a serial case, and they do not have too much to go on at this point. His team is now focused on finding similarities between the three sets of victims, finding the commonalities and perhaps some connections in order to find the killer. Hopefully before another couple can be murdered. Unfortunately, due to the tie in to the civilian spouse and the serial nature of the cases, the FBI has had to be involved and Agents Fornell and Sacks read in.

After a couple of days, McGee finds a tenuous connection between the three sets of victims: their car GPS records take them to one common location, a parking garage in downtown DC, a couple of times a week. The FBI work on canvassing the area with the photos while the MCRT keep interviewing and re-interviewing friends, family and co-workers of the victims to learn more about the couples and their lives.

The people who knew the victims all expressed how much each couple loved each other, but in all of the relationships, the civilian spouse tended to be high maintenance which seemed to grate with the no-nonsense personality of the Navy/Marine other half, sometimes leading to misunderstandings and arguments. But in all the cases, the couples had obviously loved each other despite their differences. All three couples had been together long term, over a decade each.

Finally the connection is found. All three couples had been to couples therapy at a therapist’s office in one of the buildings near where their cars had been parked. The three couples did not seem to have been in contact with each other during therapy – none of them had been there for group couples therapy – however, it was a definite connection. The therapist specialized in gay couples, and gay couples with connections to the military. Although they could serve warrants for the victims’ therapy session notes, Gibbs and his team are reluctant to go this route – if the killer is somehow connected to the therapist’s office (or is perhaps the therapist himself) then serving warrants would tip their hand.

Solution: Undercover Op.

Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo is of course the prime candidate to be the high maintenance civilian half of the gay couple in need of therapy.

“Why you, Tony?” Special Agent Tim McGee whines. “I could be high maintenance.”

“McNeedy, you’re definitely high maintenance,” DiNozzo rolls his eyes, “and if I helped you dress the part, you could definitely look the part. But I don’t think you can pull it off quite yet.”

“What do you mean?”

Tony makes a face and blows out a breath. “Tim, don’t take this the wrong way, OK? You’re cute and you’re funny, and you definitely have that high maintenance vibe, but despite any of my insinuations about you from all those years ago, I don’t think you can sell being gay to a couples therapist specializing in gay couples.”

“What, and you can?” McGee is outraged. “You’re like the poster child for one-night stands. With women.”

“I can kiss anyone and make it look good by making them feel something,” Tony says with a quiet confidence that makes McGee look at him twice.

“R-really?”

“Sure. C’mere. I’ll show you.”

“Uh, Tony, m-maybe not. I don’t want you to kiss me.”

Tony shakes his head in despair. “See? How are you going to convince a therapist that you’re in a gay relationship with anyone if you can’t even kiss me. You’ve known me for twelve fucking years, McGeek. If you’re gonna kiss a dude for the first time – at least, by your reaction it would be the first time, McNot-Experimental-In-College – why not the guy you’ve known for twelve years who’s not going to mistake it for anything but a job?”

“Did _you_ experiment in college, Tony?” McGee asks, and Tony rolls his eyes, refusing to answer the question. Did he experiment in college? Well, duh.

Special Agent Ellie Bishop who has been listening to this conversation with great interest looks thoughtful. “Well, maybe it’s neither of you.”

Both Tony and McGee glare at Bishop.

“Who do you think it should be then, Bishop?” Tony asks, over-pronouncing every syllable of Bishop’s name like he does when he is annoyed. “You? You don’t have the right equipment.”

“Well, yeah, not me!” Bishop rolls her eyes. “I’m thinking Gibbs and Fornell. Gibbs can be the Marine, and Fornell the high maintenance civilian.”

“That idea has merit,” McGee says, nodding.

“Except I don’t know, anybody meeting Fornell is going to know he’s a federal agent. Talk about a poster child for a fed – the cheap suit, the walk, the aura of bureaucratic desperation, the smell of too many nights spent at the J Edgar Hoover building, that squinty look in his eye? Don’t even get me started on his shoes!” Tony shudders theatrically. “Fornell would really need a big makeover to be a real civilian. Oooh, that might be a fun project for me! Definitely get him some new shoes.”

And then comes the headslap. Tony whirls around to see Gibbs giving him that look, that flinty blue-eyed stare that told him that he would not be playing dress up with Fornell.

“What? Bishop thought you and Fornell could be the undercover,” Tony says defensively. “I was only trying to help.”

“Help by being undercover,” Gibbs tells him.

Tony’s smile is brighter than the sun, and he perks up considerably. “That was my original idea, but these two over here wanted to go a different way!”

“Boss, I’m ready too,” McGee pipes up. “I can be the high maintenance civilian.”

“Which would make me the Navy guy? I can do Navy,” Tony nods thoughtfully, unconsciously straightening his posture, assuming the stance from his military school days. “Gotta get a haircut though, which is gonna hurt. But hair will grow back, right? Won’t be my first military haircut,” he winks at Bishop.

“No, DiNozzo. I’m the Navy guy. You’re the high maintenance civilian husband,” Gibbs announces.

Tony’s head almost falls off his shoulder as he whips it around to look at Gibbs. “What?” his voice is suddenly uncertain.

“It’s gonna be you and me, DiNozzo,” Gibbs says, his tone threatening.

Tony’s eyes stray wildly to Gibbs’. “What?” he says, very quietly. “You’re gonna be the Navy guy and I’m your high maintenance civilian husband?” he repeats.

“Yep.”

“You want us to go to couples therapy with you as the Navy guy and me as the civilian husband?” Tony says again, as if unable to wrap his head around this.

“DiNozzo, saying it three times won’t change it,” Gibbs says impatiently. “You’re right, Fornell is too much fed. McGee can’t even kiss you. Bishop is a woman. Nobody wants to see Sacks undercover. So that leaves you and me.”

Tony seems to be breathing hard. “Right. You and me. Navy guy. High maintenance husband. Gonna be a stretch, boss.”

“Didn’t you just tell McGee you can kiss anyone and make it look good and make them feel something?” Gibbs taunts.

“You want me to kiss you, Boss?” Tony sounds almost hopeful.

Gibbs rolls his eyes. “Let’s prepare for this. Bishop, I need more background on our victims so DiNozzo and I can have the same issues that they have.”

Tony tries to hide his snort of amusement in a strangled cough.

Giving Tony the stink eye, Gibbs continues. “McGee, go down and work with Abby. Hack into the therapist’s database and find the session notes. DiNozzo and I will need to study them and decide how we want to play this.”

Bishop nods, “Yes, Gibbs.”

“On it, Boss,” McGee says as he scampers towards the elevator.

“And what should I do, Boss?” Tony asks innocently.

“Just shut the fuck up and be yourself, DiNozzo,” Gibbs says grumpily. “You won’t even have to stretch yourself to be this guy.”

Tony grins, “If I’m being myself then I wouldn’t be shutting up, Boss, now would I?”

And Gibbs slaps the back of Tony’s head a second time.

“Thank you, Boss,” Tony grins as he sits back down behind his desk.

Bishop and McGee’s research uncovers several common traits about the three sets of victims. The Marine/Navy spouse had communication issues, and had trouble sharing more of themselves with their husbands. The other spouse was too needy, required too much emotionally from their husbands all stemming from a terrible childhood. The therapy was supposed to help them gain balance in their lives and be able to communicate better without arguing or playing the blame game.

“Won’t be hard for Tony to complain about your being too uncommunicative, Boss,” McGee says, grinning at Tony. “He does that all the time already.”

For some reason, Tony is quiet, his brow creased a little as he looks at Gibbs.

“You sure this is a good idea, Boss?” he asks softly.

The look he gets from Gibbs is the usual blank stare, which makes him sigh and begin muttering under his breath.

“What?” McGee asks, throwing a questioning look at Bishop who shrugs back at him. “What am I missing?”

“Nothing, McGee,” Tony says, sounding tired. “Who gets to make the appointment? The high maintenance civilian or the Navy guy? Why am I even asking the question? Of course the high maintenance civilian. Navy guy wouldn’t be caught dead actually making this appointment. Probably kill me for trying to even get him to go to therapy because why would we need therapy? Really, right? Why would we?”

“You done, DiNozzo?” Gibbs’ question is deceptively innocent.

“Yeah, I’m done.”

“Make the appointment.”

“I’ll wait till Abby’s finished constructing our undercover identities before I do it,” Tony says, going back to his desk to read through the session notes again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gibbs and Tony go for their first couples therapy session.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure: I have no idea how couples therapy, or therapy in general goes exactly so I'm winging it. Hopefully it's not too off-base.

Two days later, Anthony DiPietro-Phipps (all three civilian husbands had hyphenated their names), management consultant and his husband retired Marine Gunnery Sergeant Jethro Phipps have their very first appointment with Dr Frank Brenner. Like the first three couples, DiPietro and Phipps park their car in the nearby parking garage and walk together to their first appointment.

They sit in the waiting room, filling out paperwork and looking at each other. DiPietro has a pair of stylish designer horn-rimmed glasses on and McGee and Bishop are able to see everything he’s seeing. Also, both DiPietro and Phipps have ear pieces and are able to communicate with their team.

“I’d like for it to be on record that I’m doing this under duress,” Tony mutters under his breath.

“Can’t handle being Gibbs’ husband?” McGee teases.

Tony glares at Gibbs, daring him to speak but Gibbs calmly sits and fills in the paperwork on his clipboard, ignoring the comm-link chatter.

“Don’t forget, Tony,” Bishop reminds him, “you’re the one pushing for this session.”

“I know,” Tony snaps quietly, “Don’t worry I know what I’m supposed to do.”

After the paperwork is completed, there is nothing to do but wait to be called. Through the glasses cam, McGee, Bishop, Fornell and Sacks watch as Tony looks down at his knee, bouncing anxiously during the wait. Gibbs has just placed a gentle hand on it to still it. Tony looks up at Gibbs and they all see that slightly amused eyebrow raised at Tony.

The younger man sighs and nods. “On it, Boss,” he mutters softly. He calms down instantly and immediately assumes his DiPietro persona.

When Dr Brenner sticks his head out and asks them to come in, Gibbs stands and offers Tony his hand. Without hesitation, Tony takes it, threading their fingers together, as they walk into the therapist’s office, both of them handing their clipboards to Brenner. Brenner gestures to the small seating area. There are two armchairs, a loveseat, and two hardback chairs around a small coffee table.

“Coffee?” he asks.

“Please,” Gibbs nods at him.

“I’ve learned that coffee is a good lubricant when it comes to Marines, such as yourself,” Brenner smiles. He seems to be a pleasant enough man, unassuming, dark brown hair, salt and pepper, small neat goatee.

Without hesitation, Gibbs and Tony seat themselves together on the loveseat, and watch while Brenner pours them each a coffee and places the mugs on the table. Gibbs immediately reaches for his.

“Boss, be careful of the coffee,” McGee warns. “Stomach contents of all the victims did include coffee. I’ll ask Ducky to have Abby test the coffee itself for additives.”

“You’re supposed to be reducing your coffee intake,” Tony frowns at Gibbs. “Especially after your last physical. You promised me.”

With a sigh, Gibbs puts the mug down. “If I can’t have it, then you can’t either.”

Tony glares at him and rolls his eyes. “If that’s what it takes, I’m fine without coffee.” He pushes his mug away a little.

“So I’m Frank,” Brenner introduces himself. “Maybe you can tell me a little about yourselves before we start?”

“I’m Tony,” Tony says, “and this is my husband, Jethro.”

They all shake hands.

“Why are you two here? I’d like to hear your thoughts on why you’re here and what you expect to get out of this.”

“Well, for me it’s easy. I think our relationship is getting a little one-sided,” Tony says quietly. “I feel like I have to make all the effort. Dinner plans. Plans with friends. Going out. Trips. Really, doing anything other than sitting around on the weekends. Even the day to day stuff like grocery shopping. Cooking. Everything. If I don’t do it, then nothing happens. Doesn’t get done. We would eat take out Chinese or pizza every day and he’d be happy doing that.”

“You love pizza,” Gibbs objects.

“And yes, I do love pizza. But I would really prefer not to have to eat it every other day. I’m not thirty anymore, Jet. Do you know how hard I would have to work out in order to work off pizza every other day?” Tony says.

McGee and Bishop look at each other and mouth “Jet?” silently to each other.

“You said you didn’t mind cooking. That you like doing it,” Gibbs says.

“I don’t mind doing it. I do like cooking. What I’m saying is that you just never seem to participate with me. You just sit there and eat whatever I put in front of you, and you don’t even usually bother to tell me what you think of it. A guy needs a little appreciation every so often, Jet,” Tony sounds so earnest that even McGee and Bishop are buying it. If Gibbs and Tony lived together, they could totally see this scenario happening. Albeit without the marriage part. Like the Odd Couple, starring Gibbs and Tony. 

“You don’t even give me a hint as to what you’d like to eat tomorrow,” Tony continues. “The only time I ever have a clue is when you decide you want to cook. Then I add ingredients for cowboy steaks to our grocery list.”

“How would you like this to change?” Frank asks.

Tony frowns. “I’d like for Jet to talk to me more. Simple things – I’m not even asking for his deep dark secrets, although that would be fine, too. But like normal day to day things. What he would like for dinner, every so often. Maybe even make some requests of things that he did like. Unless of course, maybe my cooking sucks and you hate it, and that’s why you never say anything.”

“Your cooking doesn’t suck,” Gibbs says.

“How would I know? You never tell me anything about it.”

“I love everything you’ve made. Well, maybe not the experimental quinoa dessert you made that one time,” Gibbs shudders.

“OK, granted that quinoa dessert was ill-conceived,” Tony grins.

Gibbs chuckles. “Frank, it was the most awful thing I ever ate.”

“Me, too,” Tony shakes his head. “It really sucked.”

“So don’t ever make me that again, honey,” Gibbs says.

Again, McGee and Bishop exchange looks and mouth “Honey?” to each other.

“You don’t ever have to worry about a return of that fucking thing, Jet.”

“Good.”

“You’ve really liked everything else I’ve made?” Tony sounds uncertain.

“Everything. Loved it, honey. I promise.”

“Could you maybe tell me that sometimes?”

Gibbs gives Tony a look.

“Jethro?” Frank prompts him gently.

Gibbs sighs. “OK,” he says. “I can even try to request some of my favorites sometimes. Would that make you happy?”

Tony’s smile is brilliant. “Yes. That would make me happy.”

McGee and Bishop are treated to a rare sight. Gibbs smiles, a big wide open smile at Tony. Then his customary frown returns and he turns to Frank.

“Speaking of talking, I’m not the only one who doesn’t talk. Tony doesn’t talk either.”

“Please. I talk till I’m blue in the face. Every waking minute.”

“You talk but you never say anything. When it comes to things that matter, you never say any of it out loud. Never.”

Frank looks at Tony. “Is this true?”

“I say stuff,” Tony sounds defensive.

“Telling me what the crazy-ass behind the scenes thing that J.J. Abrams did for the new Star Wars movie isn’t talking about important things,” Gibbs sounds firm. “You talk about things that matter about as much as I do. Which is to say, never.”

Tony turns red, and starts muttering under his breath in Italian. McGee is suddenly afraid. He isn’t sure whether he is more taken aback by the fact that Gibbs just put J.J. Abrams and Star Wars in the same sentence or that Gibbs would point out the real Tony’s MO about not talking about actual personal things to anyone on an undercover op with a therapist.

“And all that swearing in Italian, that doesn’t count either,” Gibbs tells him.

“So let me guess,” Frank interjects. “Jethro, you’re naturally a quiet person and you don’t talk about ‘things that matter’ as you put it, because you just don’t talk about stuff. In general.”

Gibbs shrugs his assent.

“And Tony, you hide yourself behind witty banter. You talk a lot, but you try not to say anything ‘that matters’,” the air quotes are clearly enunciated as Frank turns to Tony.

Tony makes a face.

“Be honest, honey,” Gibbs says quietly. “Just because you hide the fact that you don’t really talk by talking a lot doesn’t mean I don’t notice it.”

Tony turns and stares at Gibbs. After a long period of silence, he nods once. Reluctantly. “I concede your point,” he finally says.

Frank smiles. “This is a really good beginning, guys. I think you are actually communicating.”

“I thought you liked it when I speak Italian?” Tony asks. He doesn’t sound accusatory, maybe a little confused more than anything.

Gibbs sighs. “Just because I find it a turn on doesn’t mean I like when you hide behind it. We can’t just fuck our problems away. Can’t just hide behind the sex.”

McGee and Bishop are staring at each other wide-eyed by this time. Although Gibbs and Tony are definitely adhering to the overall game plan, discussing what their issues would be based on the session notes for the other three couples, they seem to be pulling this off far more smoothly than anyone would have guessed.

Tony makes a strangled sound of distress.

“Do you disagree with that statement, Tony?” Frank asks him gently.

“No. No, I guess not. I don’t disagree,” Tony says slowly. “Although sex does help make things better.”

“So you guys have no issues in the bedroom?” Frank asks.

“Are you asking what our sex life is like?” Tony sounds affronted.

“Typically, when couples have been together as long as you have – fifteen years, according to this information? - ,” Frank glances at the clipboards in his hand, “you see a decline in sexual activity. It’s true of all couples, regardless of sexual orientation, and doesn’t usually reflect on the love or commitment of the people in the relationship.”

“We don’t have any problems there,” Gibbs grins.

“Technically we no longer fuck like bunnies like we did when we first got together,” Tony offers. “But I mean, back then, it was all so illicit, so unexpected. And Jet was still a Marine and nobody asked and we sure as hell didn’t tell. But it was hot and irresistible. And we were young and bounced back quick, ready for the next round almost as soon as the first round is over.”

“Are you saying that there are problems now, Tony?” Frank asks him.

“Hell no!” Tony’s vehemence makes Gibbs chuckle. “I’m just saying we don’t often do nooners or hide in the utility closet for a quick fuck, or at a restaurant bathroom, or even wake each other up in the middle of the night for extra rounds of sex anymore. But I’m not complaining. I like having sex on a bed, or at least in the comfort of our own home. Neither of us are teenagers anymore. But the sex is still _very_ good. Maybe even better than when we were younger.”

“You’re not so much in a hurry anymore, Tony.”

Tony smiles. “Still can’t get enough of you though, Jet.”

“How often would you say you have sex these days?”

“Daily,” Tony and Gibbs chorus.

“Every day?” Frank sounds shocked.

“Sometimes twice?” Gibbs says.

“Well, unless one of us is out of town alone. In which case there’s always phone sex,” Tony quips.

“How?” Frank frowns at them.

Gibbs reaches over and takes Tony’s hand in his. “Have you gotten a good look at Tony? He’s fucking gorgeous. I count myself lucky every day that he’s in my arms.” Tony smiles at Gibbs in response to the statement.

“But every day?” Frank looks at them. “Does it ever feel like, I don’t know, routine?”

Both Gibbs and Tony shake their heads.

“You sound like maybe you want us to have issues in the bedroom?” Tony asks him.

“No, I don’t. It’s just so rare to meet couples like you. You’ve retained that spark in bed after all these years.”

“Not that hard to do,” Tony claims. “I look forward to going to bed with Jet every night. That’s about the only time I know he will appreciate me, and he’s not afraid to tell me that either.”

“What are you saying?” Frank wants Tony to clarify.

Green eyes look over at Gibbs. “Well, most things in our lives, I have to read Jet’s mind or go from non-verbal clues as to what he wants or what he likes. Like the whole whether he even likes my cooking conversation. But he’s definitely, uh, vocal in bed.”

“What do you mean?” Gibbs wants to know.

Tony knows that he is blushing profusely. “Fuck, Jet, you talk really dirty to me in bed.”

“I do?” Gibbs sounds surprised.

“You haven’t noticed it?”

“I don’t know, I guess not really.”

“What kinds of things does Jethro say to you then?”

Tony clears his throat. “You know. Things like he wants to fuck me all night, stay inside me forever. Also, it’s about the only time that he openly praises me. How good I feel. How well I suck his dick. Things of that nature.”

McGee and Bishop look at each other, wild-eyed, blushing. “Suck his dick?” they mouth to each other. They try hard not to make eye contact with Sacks or Fornell, in case they say anything over the comms that would distract Gibbs and Tony from this performance of a lifetime they are giving.

“Really?” Gibbs raises an eyebrow. “Do you like it when I talk dirty to you?”

“God, yes,” Tony says, wondering if he can maybe turn an even darker shade of red without stroking out or getting an aneurysm or something. “I can’t believe we’re talking about this.”

“So would you like Jethro to be as expressive and vocal to you in other parts of your life as he is in bed with you, Tony?”

“Would you do that for me?” Tony looks at Gibbs.

“Won’t be easy,” Gibbs admits. “You know me.”

“I know. But would you be willing to try?”

After a moment. Gibbs nods curtly. “I’ll try.”

“And what about on your part, Tony?” Frank asks.

“What do you mean, my part?” Tony frowns at the therapist.

“Well, Jethro said that you talk a lot but you don’t say much.”

Tony shrugs.

“Would you consider saying more of the things that, as Jethro says, matters, to him?”

“It’s really not that important,” Tony mumbles.

“You always say that,” Gibbs jumps in, anger in his tone. “You always discount your own thoughts. As if they don’t matter. It makes me so angry when you do that.”

Tony sits in silent misery.

“Honey, I know you have issues because of how your dad is, and continues to be with you. I know that. And fuck, if he wasn’t your dad and if you didn’t love him, I would have killed that piece of shit for you a long time ago,” Gibbs words are soft, but heartfelt. “He’s always in your head, telling you bullshit things about why you don’t matter or why you should always put yourself last. But when I try to talk to you about this, you always shut me down.”

“Only because there’s nothing there I want to talk about.”

“You know what I’m saying is true, Tony. You’re harder on yourself than anybody else ever could be. You’re your own harshest critic, and rarely in a constructive way. Oh sure, it makes you push yourself harder and you work like a dog and you’re the best at what you do, but you then try to hide it away or make it seem less important somehow. Why do you keep doing that? Why is it so important to you that people underestimate you from the get-go?”

“I don’t know,” Tony sounds completely miserable. “It’s hard. Habit of a lifetime.”

“You have to try to break it, honey,” Gibbs tightens his hold on Tony’s hand. “He’s wrong. He doesn’t even know you. I hate that you let him break you so easily.”

“I think he broke me a long time ago, Jet.”

“Then let me in. Let me help you put things back together. I don’t care that you have to make the beds every day, and that you could bounce quarters off the bed after you make it. I don’t care that everything is sparkling clean in our house, and everything is always in its place. I don’t care that you never ever leave your dirty clothes on the floor on the way to the shower, hell, I don’t even mind that if we rip each other’s clothes off before bed, when I get up in the morning everything has been put away neatly, or is already being laundered. What I do mind is that you always, always are the first to make light of your own self. It’s not right and I hate that you won’t let me help you with this.”

Tony sighs and rubs his eyes. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“You never want to talk about this, Tony.”

“It’s not like I’m trying to be difficult.”

“I _know_ that.”

“Do you hate that I’m a neat freak _that_ much?”

“Honey, your OCD is cute. You never nag me if I’m not up to your standards. Why would I mind? I just hate that it means you think you have to be perfect or you have to hide your fears and worries from me because you think that somehow if you’re not perfect then I won’t love you anymore.”

“Do you think that, Tony?” Frank asks gently.

“I don’t know,” Tony shrugs, pouting. “I guess.”

“You do think that. At least a little,” Gibbs insists.

Tony’s eyes start filling with tears. “Are you ganging up on me?” he asks.

“No, honey,” Gibbs clasps Tony’s hand in both of his. “I just, it’s just… I hate what he’s done to make you like this! You can’t even accept my help in this. You don’t think that that doesn’t hurt me? That you don’t trust me enough to let me in on this? I will always love you, Tony. It doesn’t matter to me if you’re not perfect. Lord knows I’ve certainly got my own faults. But if you want me to talk, then you have to give me something in return. I came here with you, even though I didn’t see the point of it. But I’m kind of seeing how this could really help us. You’re right – I don’t talk to you. But you don’t talk to me either. Maybe we can start changing that together?”

“It does sound like Jethro is willing to put in the effort. What about you, Tony?”

Another shrug as an answer.

Gibbs rolls his eyes and snarls under his breath. “ _This_ is how you want to communicate, Tony? This is what that man taught you? He keeps putting you down and in the end you just put yourself down before anyone else can do it? It _kills_ me when you do that!”

“I have a complicated relationship with my father. You _know_ that!”

“You know I’ve always suspected that there’s more to this. You never talk about it. Tell me the truth. Was he abusive? I know he neglected you which is a form of abuse, but you always claimed that he never laid a hand on you. Is this true? Tell me the truth, Anthony.”

“ _Fuck_ you, Jethro!” Tony screams, pulls his hand out of Gibbs’, stands up and runs to the door.

Gibbs starts to stand to follow, but Frank puts a hand on his arm, and tells him to wait. Instead he goes after Tony himself, following him into the waiting room and closing the door behind them. In a flash, Gibbs is at Frank’s desk and plugging a thumb drive into his computer.

“McGee,” he barks softly into the comm-link, “it’s in.”

“I’m copying everything off his hard drive and server, and installing the watch program and the keystrokes program, Boss,” McGee says quietly.

“How much time before it’s done?”

“Another couple minutes maybe?”

“Tony, stall him,” Gibbs orders.

Over the comm-link he hears Tony pacing in the waiting room, angrily swearing and kicking at furniture while Frank tries to calm him down. He smiles. Tony can stretch that out for as long as they need him to. Then he quickly affixes a tiny listening device under the lamp on the desk. While waiting for McGee to complete what he needed to, he looks through Brenner’s desk to get a sense of the man. Orderly. Perhaps not as OCD as Tony but close. No pictures or any personal mementos to be seen.

“Wow, Tony is totally playing the guy,” Bishop sounds admiring.

In his ear, Gibbs hears Tony’s voice babbling about how unfair it was that Gibbs would bring up his father and talk about him today when the point was to get Gibbs to speak more. He sounds suitably upset and there is more than a hint of the damage that his father has inflicted upon him. Gibbs shuts his eyes and wishes that that part wasn’t actually true. Bishop admires him for playing this role, but Tony is pulling out bits of himself to fill in the blanks, and for that Gibbs hates this op and completely understands why Tony was doing this under duress.

Gibbs finds a to go cup and pours himself a little coffee, covering the cup with the lid and places that on the coffee table in front of him. Then he goes back to the desk and starts looking at the objects on the shelves behind it.

“OK boss, I’m done. You can unplug the thumb drive now,” came McGee’s low voice.

Gibbs quickly unplugs the thumb drive, drops it in his jacket pocket, and runs back to the sofa. “OK. We’re ready for you to come back in Tony.”

In his ear, Gibbs hears as Tony allows Frank to slowly calm him down and finally convince him to come back into the office. He finds that he is pacing in Frank’s office, and when Tony returns, he does not have to feign the concern and regret in his face. McGee and Bishop get only the slightest flash of this expression Gibbs’ face, another expression that they have never seen on his face – but after that they only see either Frank or bits of the office. Tony seems to be studiously ignoring Gibbs now. Which would be in character for the outburst they had just witnessed.

“Tony, can you tell us why talking about your father upsets you so much?” Frank tries to push.

“It just does,” Tony sounds completely uncooperative now, his body language telegraphing his anger – refusal to look at Gibbs, holding his hands stiffly in his lap instead of allowing them to be held, just vibrating with anger and resentment, prickly as a porcupine now.

“I’m sorry, honey,” came Gibbs’ quiet apology. Perhaps the first real apology McGee and Bishop have ever heard him utter, and the sheer sincerity of it is overwhelming.

Tony finally gives a silent nod, acknowledging the apology.

Frank looks at them thoughtfully. “Is this how things usually are? If Jethro pushes too hard, Tony you shut down, and then Jethro apologizes and eventually you both pretend this didn’t happen?”

Tony’s sharp indrawn breath and quick glance at Gibbs gives him away.

“OK, I’ll take that as a yes,” Frank continues. “Tony, I’d like for you to think about why it is you won’t talk to Jethro about some of the details of your childhood, your father, and your current relationship with your father.”

Tony stares at Frank for a long moment before he nods again. Once.

“Jethro, I think you should consider why you aren’t sharing more with Tony either,” Frank says. “How much of it is your natural tendency to be quiet and deal with things by yourself, and how much of it is – perhaps unconsciously on your part – retaliation because Tony doesn’t share things about himself that matter to you.”

Tony turns to look at Gibbs, his investigator’s mind curious now. Was Gibbs unconsciously punishing him for being uncommunicative by holding back bits of himself? And how did Tony feel about that?

“I think you have both done good work here with me today,” Frank goes on. “Perhaps we should speak again tomorrow? I don’t want you to think through this too long without us discussing it again.”

“Tomorrow sounds good,” Gibbs says.

Again Tony nods tightly. Gibbs tentatively reaches across to take one of Tony’s stiff hands, unconsciously rubbing soothing circles on the back of his hand with his calloused thumb.

“Also if you don’t feel like cooking tonight, I would be happy to,” Gibbs offers.

“I can make the sides,” Tony offers stiffly.

“That would be great, honey,” Gibbs smiles at him.

“Do you have any preferences?”

“Whatever you feel like, honey,” came the expected response.

“Jethro…” Frank says, smiling at him.

Gibbs rolls his eyes. “Maybe the roasted sweet potatoes thing that you make?”

“With the herbs and duck fat?” Tony asks.

“Yeah. I love that.”

Tony nods. “OK. And asparagus?”

Gibbs makes a face. “Fine. Asparagus.”

“I’ll have you eating vegetables yet, Jethro,” Tony offers him a small smile.

Frank tells them that their time is up, and asks them to make their follow up appointment for the next day with his receptionist in the second waiting room. He walks them out via a different door, so as to avoid seeing the next people waiting to see him. Gibbs surreptitiously gestures to the to go cup in his hand and winks at Frank, who smiles and doesn’t mention it to them and risk Tony guilting Jethro into throwing the cup away.

The receptionist, a middle-aged rather horsey-faced woman fits them in at the end of Frank’s day as his schedule had been completely filled for the next day. They thank her and walk back to their car, this time Gibbs keeping Tony’s hand in his, in case they are being watched.

In the car, Tony pulls out an evidence bag and Gibbs carefully places the cup of coffee into it and seals it. They both sign the appropriate sections of the bag and Gibbs keeps it in front of him on the floor, ensuring it doesn’t tip over and spill. Tony drives them back to the Navy Yard where he drops Gibbs off – Gibbs’ cover being a consultant for the US Navy and the US Marine Corp on several classified projects. Tony had been uncharacteristically quiet during the drive, and it surprises McGee and Bishop when they see Gibbs lean across and drop a kiss on Tony’s lips, and he tenderly runs his fingers through Tony’s hair. Tony nods silently, and gives Gibbs a small smile.

Gibbs’ and Tony’s commitment to their legends was truly remarkable, McGee thinks. Obviously Gibbs is kissing Tony in case they are already being watched.

“I’ll see you at home tonight?” Gibbs asks, his tone incredibly gentle.

Tony nods. “Yeah.”

“Attaboy, Tony,” he says quietly before getting out of the car.

Tony stops at a grocery store, picks up ingredients for dinner, beer and wine, and drives to the house that the FBI set them up with as part of their cover, with agents keeping watch from the house across the street. Tony DiPietro-Phipps mostly works from home so after he puts the groceries away he sits at his desk in his home office and tiredly takes the glasses-cam off.

“You can turn the glasses cam off, Probie,” Tony says quietly.

“You OK, Tony?” McGee asks, finally realizing that Tony sounds drained and quiet.

“Never better,” came the quiet response. But McGee knows that Tony is off. “I’m taking the ear piece off too, Probie. Gonna grab a shower then I’ll go back to reviewing the evidence that Ducky found on the victims. Let me know what, if anything comes of Abby’s analysis of the coffee Gibbs brought her.”

“Will do, Tony.”

“Tony, you were seriously awesome in there,” Bishop says breathlessly. “Gibbs too. You had McGee and me believing you both completely and we know you’re undercover.”

Tony chuckles softly. “Bye Probies,” he says, and takes the ear piece out. Sighing quietly, he goes to the bathroom, strips and showers. He wishes he were at his own apartment with its crazy shower heads and incredible water pressure, but the shower does refresh him and wash away the stink of the therapy session.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Thank you so much for all the kudos and comments on Chapter 1! You sure know how to make a girl feel good :)
> 
> Also, I did say that the story took on a life of its own and kind of went somewhat serious. Maybe I need to listen to happier songs when I write? :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More therapy and the denouement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, I cannot thank you all enough for all the kudos and the awesome comments for the first two chapters of this story!! You guys rock!
> 
> I'm afraid there's only the Epilogue after this chapter. Again, I have to stress that I am winging it entirely for the therapy bits (although Psyche53 says I'm not too far off, 'Rogerian person-centered therapy'). :)

Over the next few days, DiPietro and Phipps attend sessions with Frank on a daily basis. Sessions are always at the end of the day, or even after hours, as Frank has to fit them in to his already tight schedule at the last minute. At nights, they spend the night at their cover house and wait for something to happen. So far, the investigation seems to be stalled. The coffee turned out to be just coffee. The coffee in the victims’ stomachs also seemed to be regular coffee, with no lethal or any other chemical additives. Frank doesn’t do anything incriminating on his computer and the bug doesn’t get them anything either. The MCRT and the FBI are researching Brenner’s patients, vendors, employees, and so far not able to find anything out of the ordinary. Tony seems to get quieter and quieter as the days progress, and Gibbs knows that they need to be done with this case soon or something bad will happen.

At the fifth session, Tony blows up again when they discuss his father.

“OK, Jet. My father beat the shit out of me if I didn’t behave, or if I wasn’t the perfect son. If my room was a mess. If my appearance was not up to his standards. If I made a sound in his presence. Is _that_ what you want to hear? Does it make you _happy_ to hear me say that out loud??” He yells.

“Are you just saying this because you think this is what I want to hear, or are you finally telling me the truth? Whichever it is, the way you’re doing this makes me think you’re still hiding things from me! That this _admission_ of yours can be taken either way makes me think you’re doing this deliberately. So at the end I’m still not sure what the truth is!”

Both men are standing now, fists clenched at their sides, glaring angrily at each other.

“Stop making everything about my father,” Tony says, his voice shaking with rage. “He is not the sum total of our problems. You hide yourself just as much as I do.”

“You’re right, I do hide myself from you. But you always seem to know and see everything about me,” Gibbs yells right back, his own anger just as palpable. “It kills me I can’t read you as well as you seem to read me. Don’t you know that? It fucking _kills_ me! You _always_ know what I’m thinking, sometimes even before I think it. But I can only do that with you maybe half of the time. Why won’t you fucking let me in sometimes? Why do I have to work for every little shred of trust from you? Even all these years later, I _still_ have to earn every tiny bit of you that you would voluntarily share with me. That’s why I’m so _angry_ at your father because he made you so fucking suspicious of everything, so suspicious of even the people who actually love you now, that all these damned years later you still hold us all at arm’s length. And maybe Frank is right. Maybe I am withholding myself from you because you are doing it to me and I don’t know how to get through to you.”

Tony drops onto the love seat, suddenly unable to stand, and buries his head in his hands. Immediately, Gibbs is on his knees, arms around Tony. Apologizing over and over again. Desperately trying to comfort the obviously distressed man. Running his hands over Tony’s body. Kissing Tony’s face and hands. His apologies are fervent and intense.

McGee and Bishop feel terribly uncomfortable, feeling as if they are eavesdropping on a very private conversation, and exchange troubled glances with each other. Tony does have problems with his relationship with his father. How much of this that he and Gibbs are yelling at each other is true? And surely nobody can fake the level of apology and hurt that the two are showing. Surely nobody can be so convincing in their undercover personas? But of course this is Tony and he is not known as the best undercover operative on the east coast for no reason. And Gibbs used to be undercover in Europe, so he can definitely handle himself as well.

Finally Tony controls himself. He leans into Gibbs’ arms and hides his face in the crook of his neck. “You’re right,” he says quietly. “I do make you work for everything. And that isn’t fair to you. I know that.” His words are so raw that even McGee, Bishop and the Feebies flinch when they hear them. “And you’re right. I said those things about my father so it would cause doubt, and also so it would hurt you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s OK, honey. I’m sorry, too,” Gibbs is gentle, apologetic, and understanding.

“And what can you do about this, Tony?” Frank’s gentle voice prompts him. “You can see how much you not telling Jethro things, these important things about yourself, that it hurts him, can’t you? And from what I have seen, you love him, and you don’t want to hurt him.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Tony says into Gibbs’ neck.

“I know, honey. I know that.”

“Maybe you can just tell him one thing now. One true thing, something that you’ve hidden from him. And maybe he can tell you one thing about himself that he’s hidden from you.”

Tony heaves a shuddering sigh, tightening his hold on Gibbs. He nods. “I don’t want to do it here,” he says. “Can I tell him tonight? After he’s made love to me. I’ll tell it to him in the dark. So he can’t see my face, and I don’t have to see his face.”

“Are you OK with that, Jethro? Will you tell him your one true thing then as well?”

Gibbs nods, still running his hands over Tony’s hair, his shoulders, his back. Rubbing soothing circles on the small of Tony’s back. Feeling the younger man’s grip on him tighten even more. They spend the rest of the session holding each other silently, and Frank doesn’t push them to speak anymore.

Theirs is an after-hours session. Frank pencils them in for the same slot for the next day and sends them on their way. His outer office is dark, barely lit with small lamps lighting the way to the exit. The receptionist has long since gone home. Gibbs holds Tony’s hand securely in his, fingering the wedding band prop on Tony’s finger with his thumb, and walks him to his car – they had driven to therapy separately since Gibbs had come straight from work. The parking garage is very dark, and Tony’s car is shrouded in darkness. Once there, to McGee and Bishop’s surprise, Gibbs pulls Tony into his arms and gives him a thorough kiss, the sounds of their lips and tongues sucking on each other, surprising and shocking them. Even crusty old I’ve-seen-everything-there-is-to-see Fornell is taken aback.

“You OK?” Gibbs murmurs quietly.

Tony nods silently, and pulls him in for another kiss.

Wow, McGee thinks, Tony _can_ kiss anyone and convince them it’s real. He is definitely more than half convinced that the kiss is not just for show, and the glasses-cam shows that Gibbs’ eyes are closed and he is throwing himself into this kiss just as much as Tony is. Finally, they pull apart, and Gibbs cups Tony’s face, gazing into his eyes in a look that Bishop and McGee can only call ‘tender’.

“Attaboy, Tony,” he says, as he has been saying after each therapy session.

Tony grins, gives him a peck on the lips, and lets Gibbs open his door and help him into the car.

“See you at home,” he tells Gibbs. “I know you’ll get there before me the way you drive.”

Gibbs’ mouth quirks up into a wry grin. “See you in a bit, honey.” He closes Tony’s door and watches as Tony pulls out of the parking space before he jogs to his own car. When he gets home, he is not surprised that Tony hasn’t arrived yet. Sometimes the younger man drives out of his way for a few minutes to get some space from the therapy session before he comes home to the cover house. He gets concerned however when Tony doesn’t show up after a half hour and isn’t answering either via ear piece or his cell. The glasses-cam has also gone dark, something McGee has stopped worrying about – after hard therapy sessions, sometimes Tony takes the glasses off and throws them into the glove compartment for a mental break, but now coupled with the silence on the comms, McGee curses himself for not checking in right when the glasses went dark. All they can hear over the comms is the low hum of a car.

“McGee,” Gibbs barks into the comm-link. “Track Tony. Now.”

Abby had managed to talk both Gibbs and Tony into allowing her to place a tracker under their skin. Unfortunately with their track records of getting lost or kidnapped or hijacked, especially when undercover, and their trackers malfunctioning or broken or otherwise rendered useless, this time Vance backed Abby’s request, unwilling to lose his two senior agents, arguably his two best agents. So this time, tracking Tony is not a problem.

McGee tracks Tony and Fornell, Sacks, Bishop and Gibbs are on the move right away. From the tracker in Tony’s car, he and the car seem to still be moving together, although he is unresponsive and they cannot hear anything other than the car engine. They track the car, following it discreetly until it turns into a quiet street and parks in the driveway of a house. They watch as a figure exits the driver’s side – a non-Tony figure, dressed in dark clothing.

McGee reports that the house belongs to a Gerald Stowe, and as it turns out, after he digs a little, Gerald Stowe, turns out to be also known as Geraldine Howard, Frank Brenner’s receptionist. Geraldine Howard had been a cousin of his, now deceased. He had assumed her identity and has worked for Brenner for over a year.

They watch, approaching quietly on foot, as Stowe opens the back door and starts pulling out what looks to be a blanket-wrapped body. The arrest is silent. Stowe drops the body with a loud thump and attempts to flee, but Fornell sets upon him and cuffs are slapped on immediately, while Bishop and Sacks begin sweeping the house carefully. Gibbs runs to the blanket-wrapped figure, half in and half out of the car, and unwrapping the blanket and pulling a hood off his head, he finds Tony. Heart pounding, Gibbs feels for a pulse, and checks to see if Tony’s throat has been cut.

Swearing with relief, Gibbs feels Tony’s pulse, strong and steady. His throat is intact. However, he is passed out, eyes closed, completely unresponsive to his calls. Gibbs yells for McGee to call for an ambulance while he gently pulls Tony’s bottom half out of the car, laying him on the ground and checking him over for any other injuries. Then he holds him close, slapping his face and trying to get a response out of him, to no avail.

He sees a slightly inflamed puncture wound in Tony’s neck. “What did you give him?” he growls at Stowe who is being led into the FBI SUV. Stowe will be taken to the Navy Yard for questioning.

Sacks and Bishop come out and report that the house is clear. McGee reports that he is on his way with Balboa’s team to help with the collection of evidence. Gibbs checks Tony’s pulse again, pries his eyelids open to check his pupils, and continues to slap his cheeks, calling his name.

“He’s not waking up for a while, _honey_ ,” Stowe tells him, placing emphasis on the last word.

Gibbs stalks over to where Stowe is, sitting in the SUV, hands cuffed behind his back. “Motherfucker, what the fuck did you give him?” he snarls, and Fornell recognizes the intent in Gibbs’ eyes. Stowe is about to get his head ripped off with Gibbs’ bare hands. He stands in front of Gibbs to block him.

“We’re taking him to the Navy Yard, Gibbs. You can interrogate him there,” Fornell says, trying to calm his friend.

“Found a syringe,” Bishop calls, holding up a used syringe in her gloved hand. She stands at the passenger side of Tony’s car.

“Get that to Abby and have her put a rush on it,” Gibbs orders. He glares at Fornell and at Stowe. Finally he exhales loudly, his mouth a straight angry line.

“Go get your boy settled,” Fornell says, “we’ll let him sit until you’re ready to talk to him.”

Gibbs nods curtly. With one last glare at Stowe, he turns back and kneels down next to Tony, and Bishop is amazed to see a gentle hand brushing through Tony’s hair as he takes Tony’s hand, ready to wait for the ambulance. He carefully removes Tony’s ear piece and the glasses and hands them off to Bishop to be bagged. Then he leans down and whispers something into Tony’s ear, even though the younger man is unconscious, and continues to run his fingers through Tony’s hair.

When the paramedics arrive, they begin their work, listening to Gibbs’ quiet summary of what they believe happened to Tony, and asking him information on Tony’s medical history. Gibbs gets in the ambulance with them. Bishop listens while Gibbs barks out orders to her, before her two senior agents are whisked away. Her last glimpse of Gibbs before the ambulance doors are closed is of Gibbs holding tightly to Tony’s hand, the concern in his eyes almost overwhelming.

Abby calls Gibbs to let him know that the contents of the syringe had been a mixture of rohypnol and a sedative, but that they are unable to tell how much Tony had been dosed with. Ducky speaks to Tony’s doctors and they all agree that given the unknown dosage, it would be safer to let Tony wake up when the drugs have worked their way out of his system rather than try any treatment to counteract the drugs. Tony will likely be completely out of it perhaps through to the middle of the next day.

Gibbs nods at all the explanations and agrees to Tony being kept under observation until the drugs have worn off. He leans down, hugs the still form, places a soft kiss on his forehead and runs his hands through the short honey-brown hair one more time, before he whispers more things in Tony’s ear. To Ducky’s surprise, Gibbs presses a kiss onto Tony’s pale lips and squeezes his hand one last time before leaving the room.

He walks with Gibbs who is striding down the hospital hallways, ready to go back to the Navy Yard to confront their perpetrator.

“Jethro?” Ducky asks, placing a hand on Gibbs’ arm.

“What is it Ducky?” Gibbs frowns at him.

“Well, Jethro, I had thought the affection you were lavishing on young Anthony these last few days had been merely to sell your cover story,” Ducky says, concerned. “But what I saw just now makes me think that perhaps you do have feelings for him? Feelings other than friendship and a professional partnership?”

Gibbs smiles at Ducky. “Butt out, Duck,” he says gently.

“Does Anthony know how you feel, Jethro?”

Gibbs sighs. “Listen to the recordings of our sessions with Brenner, Duck,” he finally says. “You can tell a lot about us from them. Now the faster I go break this asshole to pieces, the faster I can get back here and make sure I’m here when Tony wakes up. You comin’?”

Ducky looks into Gibbs’ face for a long moment, unable to find any hint of any emotion there other than impatience. He shakes his head. “I shall stay here with Anthony.”

“Good, he’d like that, Duck. You know how much he hates hospitals. Watch his six. I’ll see you later.”

The interrogation went fairly smoothly. McGee and Bishop had dug out more information about Stowe and found that he had been in relationships with men in the Navy and the Marines and had apparently been severely abused by a Marine in the last relationship that he had had, bringing upon a complete mental breakdown, leading to a long stint in a psychiatric facility. Apparently “Geraldine”, off his meds, started targeting Frank Brenner’s patients who fit in the category that he himself had been in. As part of his duties, he had also been the one transcribing Brenner’s notes, and he had access to listen to the session recordings as well, which is how he chose his victims.

He would schedule therapy for his victims after hours and wait until the couple drove separate cars to therapy, then break into the civilian’s car, hide in the dark, drug him and take him home. Then he would use his captive’s cell phone to lure the husband to his house where again, drugs were used to subdue his prey. The shrinks were going to have a field day analyzing the reasons why the civilian spouse had been the one raped post-mortem.

Stowe could not believe that Gibbs and Tony had been playing undercover roles.

“But it was so real. I listened to Dr Brenner’s session recordings. You two are definitely married. Definitely. Or at least in a serious relationship,” he keeps insisting.

Gibbs ignores this whole line of conversation, giving Stowe his patented blank stare. Finally after all the information has been gleaned and Stowe to be dealt with by a combination of the JAG and the DA’s offices, requisite paperwork completed and filed, it is morning before Gibbs is able to go to Bethesda.

He quietly slips into Tony’s room where Tony still seems to be completely dead to the world. Ducky is slumped forward, chin on chest, sleeping in a chair by Tony’s bed. Gibbs quietly pulls another chair to the other side of the bed, leans to kiss Tony’s lips and check his pulse, comforted by its strength, and run his fingers through the younger man’s hair, before he settles in. He puts his head on Tony’s leg and holds his hand, interlacing their fingers before he relaxes and falls asleep.

A few hours later, Gibbs awakens to the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee. Sitting up, he gratefully accepts the cup without even opening his eyes. Finally after a couple of sips, he pries his eyes open and sees Fornell sitting in the chair Ducky had previously occupied.

“Tobias,” he greets his old friend.

“Stowe’s lawyer is pushing for an insanity defense,” Fornell says without preamble. “Might actually get it. That guy is nuts.”

Gibbs nods. “Not surprised.”

“You OK with that?”

“As long as he’s institutionalized for a very long time, sure.”

Fornell sighs.

“Ducky get called into a case?”

Fornell nods. “Said he’ll be back as soon as he can.” Finally, after a long pause, he blows out a breath and looks pointedly at Gibbs’ other hand, still joined and laced with the still-sleeping Tony’s. “You and DiNutzo?” he asks quietly.

Gibbs shrugs. “Problem?”

“None of my business,” Fornell makes a face. “Wish Diane were still alive for this though. She woulda pissed herself laughing.”

Gibbs smiles. “Yeah.”

“You’ve been together a long time though?”

“Long time. On and off,” Gibbs says offhandedly.

Fornell looks at Gibbs’ purposely blasé expression. “No! Not from the beginning?” Fornell guesses, looking shocked.

“Pretty much.”

“Shit! That’s why he didn’t want to do this op,” Fornell says, rubbing his chin with his hand. “Way too close for comfort.”

Gibbs nods and sips his coffee. “Didn’t bring two of these, did you?”

Fornell smiles. “Your people will be here soon with your go bags. I’m sure they’ll have more coffee.” He stands. “Good job, Gibbs. Tell DiNutzo I said that. I’ll be by later to get his statement. Call me when he’s lucid?”

“Will do.”

After Fornell leaves, Gibbs hits the head and tries to refresh himself a little. Then he carefully shifts Tony’s inert body over a little before climbing into the bed with him, putting his arms around the younger man, whispering endearments into his ears, dropping soft kisses on his neck before laying his head on Tony’s shoulder. He closes his eyes and breathes Tony’s scent in, allowing it to calm him. He sighs. Not another close call.

He ignores the nurse that comes around to check on Tony, glaring at him, silently daring him to ask him to get off the bed.

“Agent DiNozzo’s vitals are stable,” the nurse tells him. “He should be coming around sometime soon, we think.”

Gibbs grunts a response.

“I think if you keep talking to him, and touching him, it’ll help him,” the nurse says as he keeps annotating the chart by the foot of Tony’s bed. “I believe in stimuli, aural as well as tactile. Skin on skin does wonders.”

Gibbs nods gruffly.

“His doctor will be in shortly.”

After the nurse leaves, Gibbs smiles at Tony.

“You hear that? Apparently I’m supposed to keep talking to you, honey,” he says quietly. “And touching your skin. Talking and touching. Two of your favorite things. Hang on.” Awkwardly, he shrugs out of his dress shirt and tosses it onto the chair, leaving on only a tight white short-sleeved t-shirt stretching across broad shoulders. He then scoots his arm back around Tony and pulls him gently into his arms, settling Tony’s head on his chest and placing Tony’s hand on his belly, under his shirt. “There, a little skin for you. Can’t very well strip naked for you right here, honey. Be different if we were at home.” He turns the TV on and finds the sports channel. He begins a running commentary on the football game highlights, feeling more like Tony by doing this, which makes him smile and hold the younger man a little tighter against him.

A few hours later, Tony stirs weakly, exhausted, his brain very foggy. He knows he is not in his own bed, and starts to panic before he realizes that he is being held by a pair of strong arms, and his head is pillowed on a familiar chest. Even before he opens his eyes, he smells it – the scent of coffee and sawdust. He smiles without opening his heavy eyes and nuzzles into the chest, putting his arm around the familiar body. “Jet,” he sighs.

“You awake?” Gibbs’ quiet voice breaks into his consciousness.

He hums a response, tightening his arm around Gibbs’ chest.

“Remember what happened last night?”

Tony pauses, then shakes his head. “Therapy?” he finally says. “Kind of remember therapy. Don’t remember after. Did you drive me home? Thought I drove myself? Are we home?”

“Honey, you’re in the hospital.”

“Oh,” Tony is very confused. “Why, exactly? You OK? You get shot?”

“I’m fine. Nobody got shot.”

“Concussion? ‘S all fuzzy.”

“No concussion. You were taken. He drugged you in your car.”

Tony frowns and tenses up. Who took him? Right. Serial killer. Serial killer? “You get him?”

“Yep.”

“’K,” Tony’s trust in Gibbs’ word is absolute. If Gibbs said they got the guy, then they got the guy.

“How do you feel?”

“Fuzzy.”

“Don’t worry about it. You were roofied.”

Roofies. Fuzziness makes sense. He nods. “The case. Is it over?”

“Yep.”

“Did I break cover?”

“Nope. You did good, Tony.”

“’K,” Tony yawns and finally relaxes again. He still hasn’t opened his eyes this whole time. “Still sleepy. Is it time for work?”

“Go on back to sleep, honey,” Gibbs kisses the top of the younger man’s head. “You’ve got a little more time before work.”

Tony hums again, smiling. He buries his face in Gibbs’ chest, sliding his hand under Gibbs’ shirt. “Love you,” he mumbles as he falls back into the darkness.

“Love you, too,” Gibbs says quietly, petting Tony’s head and rubbing his scalp gently. He finally looks up to meet Ducky’s eyes. The ME had been standing there speaking to him when Tony started waking up.

“Jethro,” Ducky says, sounding overwhelmed.

“We don’t need a lecture,” Gibbs warns him.

“No. You have obviously been in a relationship together for a long time, would be my guess. And not the kind of relationship that I thought you had.”

Gibbs smiles. “DiNozzo has a way of worming his way in.”

Ducky chuckles in response. “That he does. That he does. May I ask why you have kept this secret, Jethro?”

Gibbs shrugs. “It just worked out that way, Duck. Don’t take offense. We told no one.”

Ducky nods. “Very well. But perhaps we can speak more later. I would like to hear more about your relationship, given that you have both just professed your love for one another in my presence.”

“OK Ducky. We can talk about this later.” After a pause, Gibbs frowns. “He’s gonna be a little fragile for the next few days, Duck,” Gibbs says. “Tell the team to lay off him. The stuff about his dad. Pretty sure he wasn’t making that shit up.”

Ducky nods his understanding. “I shall speak to them discreetly, Jethro.”

Gibbs nods his thanks. “You think I should get off his bed? Am I crowding him?” Gibbs asks, concerned.

“No, Jethro,” Ducky shakes his head, smiling, “I think you’re exactly where you should be, and where Anthony wants you to be.”

Gibbs smiles back. “Thanks for the coffees and our go bags.”

“Abigail, Timothy and Eleanor will no doubt be here later this evening to check in on you.”

Gibbs nods. “Can’t believe he’s still out of it.”

“It must have been a very strong dosage Stowe gave him. He’s lucky it hasn’t caused any complications. He has always been overly sensitive to medications so I am not surprised our young Anthony has not yet come back to himself.”

When Abby, Bishop and McGee arrive in the evening, Gibbs is back in his chair by the side of the bed. Tony is awake but still very disoriented and confused. Likely, he will not remember much of what happened after the therapy session due to the roofies. Due to his over-sensitivity to medications, his doctor decides to observe him one more night, promising to release him in the morning, provided he not go home alone. Gibbs assures him that Tony will stay with him. That night Gibbs climbs back into bed with Tony and holds the younger man in his arms while they sleep.

A week later, when Tony has lunch alone with Bishop, she looks at him solemnly. “Tony,” she says in that quiet, serious way of hers, “how long have you and Gibbs been together?”

Tony gives her a long look before he sighs and puts down his sandwich. “What does it matter?”

“Before I joined the team, though, right?”

“Is there a pool going that I don’t know about?”

“No, no office pool. No chatter whatsoever. Even after this last op. I’m just curious. Cause I never suspected anything and I don’t think McGee still suspects anything. And I’m usually good at sussing these things out. How far back do you guys go?”

“Off and on since before McGee joined the team,” Tony finally says.

“No!” Bishop’s eyes are wide with shock. “How far before McGee?”

Tony shrugs, making a face. “Almost from the beginning.”

“All fifteen years?”

Tony nods.

“And nobody suspected?”

“We don’t let it affect work. Plus there were long periods of ‘off’ through the years. And other people during the off periods.”

“But you’re definitely on now, right?”

Tony smiles and nods.

“Does he make you happy?”

Tony’s smile widens. “Are you checking to make sure Gibbs isn’t taking advantage of me, little Bishop?”

“Well. He is your boss.”

Tony laughs. “Believe me, nobody is taking advantage of me,” he winks, “not without my permission.”

Bishop smiles. “As long as you’re happy.”

“I am.”

“What about all those things you guys talked about at therapy? The trust issues. The hiding. The cooking?” She carefully does not mention Tony’s dad.

Tony shrugs and smiles. “That was our cover. Stupid shit that doesn’t matter or isn’t even true.”

Bishop nods. “OK. If you say so, Tony.”

“I do.”

“How serious are you guys?” Bishop asks, frowning. “Gibbs doesn’t strike me as a casual dater. Not for how long you guys have been together.”

Tony smiles. “No. He’s the marrying kind.”

“Are you guys _married?_ ”

Tony shrugs. “No big deal. I think he likes the vows. He’d be a monk just for the sheer number of vows he could take, if monks were allowed to have sex. And go around chasing criminals.”

“No big deal?? Are you _nuts?_ This is a _very big deal_.”

“Bishop, calm down. It’s not like it just happened.”

“How long?” Bishop demands. “How long have you guys been married? And how can it be that nobody knew anything about this?”

“Couple of years,” Tony finally says, seeing that Bishop isn’t going to drop the subject.

“That’s the whole time I’ve known you!”

“Huh,” Tony smiles, “yeah, we got married just before you joined the team.”

“And nobody knew? How did you guys pull that off?”

“By not talking about it?” Tony shrugs and purses his lips. “Strict adherence to Rule 4. Which I’m breaking right now. So, now can we stop talking about this? It’s kind of a strange topic.”

“It’s a _strange topic?_ You being married to Gibbs is a _strange topic?_ I’ll say!”

“I’m going to eat your fries if you don’t stop talking about this,” Tony threatens her gently, snagging a couple of fries off her plate.

“How can you be so calm about this?” Bishop shields her plate with her arm.

“Bishop, I am only going to say this the one time: what is between Gibbs and me is our business and nobody else’s. We don’t talk about it to anyone because we just don’t. We’re in this for ourselves and for each other. And that is the end of the story.”

“But don’t you care that nobody knows?”

“He knows, and I know,” Tony says gently. “And that’s more than enough for us. Now please, drop the subject or you will be stuck cleaning and stocking the NCIS van for the foreseeable future. This topic is officially closed, and closed forever.”

“This is really how you want to play this?”

Tony nods solemnly.

“OK, Tony.”

“And…?”

“I won’t say anything to anyone.”

“Good.”

“I have one last question.”

Tony sighs, and motions with his hand for her to get on with it.

“Does he actually call you ‘honey’?”

Tony gives her a disapproving glare, one eyebrow raised, staying silent until she grins and shrugs nonchalantly. “Had to ask. Also…I’m very happy for you guys.”

“Thank you,” Tony rewards her with a shy smile. The one that she recognizes as the true smile, the one that he tries hard not to let anyone see. She reaches a hand and squeezes his, smiling back. Quick as a cobra, he snatches a handful of fries off her plate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I'm not a medical professional so apologies if my hospital/medical jargon is lacking. :)
> 
> Epilogue tomorrow!


	4. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony and Gibbs reconnect, and there is pillow talk.

Tony whimpers as Gibbs sticks a lubed finger in his ass.

“You like that?” Gibbs’ voice is husky with lust.

“Y-yes,” Tony moans, pushing down on the finger.

“You want more?”

“Please,” Tony pants, as Gibbs fists his hard cock and begins pumping it. “Oh god, please. Yes.”

Gibbs inserts a second finger and begins feeling around, stroking the hard nub in gentle circles. Tony’s moans become more urgent.

“Do you like it when I stroke you? When I fuck you with my fingers?”

“Y-yes.”

“How about when I do this?” Gibbs inserts a third finger, smiling when Tony begins fucking himself on his fingers.

“Yes! Please. More. Please. Oh fuck.”

“Do you want me to fuck you, honey?”

“Fuck!” Tony hisses when Gibbs leans down and sucks on his cockhead. “Oh fuck. Yeah.”

“What do you want?”

“You. Please. Ohhh, fuck me, please.”

“Want me to put my dick inside you?”

Tony’s strangled moan is his only answer.

“I don’t know, was that a yes?” Gibbs looks thoughtful, and stops all movement. “I’m afraid I’m going to need more input from you, honey.”

“No!” the younger man screams in frustration at the abrupt cessation of activity. “Fuck!” Tony swears, trying to move, but Gibbs holds his hips down with one strong hand and his fingers have stilled inside him. “Oh fuck, Jet. Fuck!” Tony’s frustration is evident. “Yes! I want you to put your dick inside me. Please! Please. Fuck! Move, please,” He wriggles and twitches to no avail. Finally he begins begging in Italian, begging for Gibbs to fuck him and fuck him hard, and not leave him hanging.

Gibbs groans and removes his fingers. “You know I can’t resist you when you go all Italian on me,” he grins as he lubes his hard cock, lines up and rocks himself in, in short strokes, grinning with satisfaction at Tony’s loud and heartfelt agreements.

He leans down and kisses Tony, a wild, demanding kiss, as he begins thrusting into his hot, tight body. “Is this what you were talking about?” he grunts, thrusting with each word.

“Yesss!” Tony whispers urgently. “Yes. Yes. There. Right there. So fucking good. Harder. Harder. Oh fuck!”

Gibbs switches to long, slow thrusts, smiling as Tony almost screams again in frustration.

“You’re gonna play it like that, are you?” Tony gasps.

“I’m gonna to play with you, all right,” Gibbs smiles and tweaks Tony’s nipple.

Tony pulls him down for another wild kiss, reaching down to massage Gibbs’ balls. “How about if I play with you too?”

Gibbs’ moan makes Tony smile. Then the older man switches up again, putting one of Tony’s legs over his shoulder and giving him short, cockscrewing thrusts that hit his prostate just so and Tony is unable to think, only to respond, hands on Gibbs’ ass, fingers digging in almost painfully, his other leg curled around Gibbs’ waist tightly, trying to pull him in even closer, moaning obscenities and encouragement, not even aware what language he is using, or if he is even saying actual words.

He lets the sensations wash over him, gives in to Gibbs’ control, absorbs the words of love and need and praise from Gibbs’ lips, lets himself react physically and verbally according to instinct, letting the pressure build and build until he is pulling handfuls of bedding, clawing Gibbs’ back and ass, scrabbling for something to hold on to, moans changing to desperate keening, begging for release, begging for Gibbs to fuck him hard, fuck him harder still.

Another position change, Gibbs rolls him onto his knees and drives himself in again, thrusting hard, slamming deep into the younger man, brushing his sweet spot with every thrust. Tony grabs hold of pillows, pulls the bedding off the bed, finally grips the edge of the mattress at the head of the bed for purchase (Damn Jet’s beautiful elegant hand-carved wooden sleigh bed, no bars to hang on to!) and pushes his ass back hard against each of Gibbs’ driving thrusts, squeezing him tight with each movement, and Gibbs’ thrusts become fast and uncontrolled, his moans and grunts louder and faster.

He reaches for Tony’s hard cock and begins stroking him in time to his thrusts.

“Can’t hold on,” Tony gasps, “Fuck. I can’t…” he breaks off, whimpering helplessly.

“Come for me,” Gibbs moans back, feeling his own orgasm fast approaching.

Tony stiffens, pleasure crashing through him, and he comes, hard, emptying himself over Gibbs’ fingers and onto the bed, moaning Gibbs’ name. His spasms take Gibbs over the edge, and the older man’s hips stutter and he roars Tony’s name as he gives in, and fills Tony’s body with his come. They collapse on the bed, breathing hard, Gibbs on top of Tony, unable to move.

Many minutes later, Gibbs begins kissing the back of Tony’s neck and shoulders, rolling off him a little, his hands moving up and down the hard, muscled expanse that is Tony’s back. “You OK?”

Tony hums, turns his head and sighs. “I’m on the wet spot,” he complains.

“So get off it.”

“You were on top of me.”

“Excuses, excuses,” Tony hears the smile in Gibbs’ voice.

With a loud groan, he turns onto his side, facing Gibbs and smiles as he leans in for a kiss. Time passes as they pull each other close, just kissing each other, tasting, nibbling, licking each other’s lips, exploring again the insides of each other’s mouths, arms around each other, feet tangled together, scraping a toe up and down each other’s leg gently. Finally they pull apart.

“I’m still on the wet spot,” Tony says softly.

Gibbs laughs. He rolls off the bed and helps to pull Tony up. They wipe each other down in the bathroom then together they strip the sheets off the bed. Gibbs takes the soiled sheets down to the laundry while Tony gets fresh sheets and remakes the bed. By the time Gibbs gets back upstairs, he has made the bed (complete with quarter-bouncing-square-cornered-sheets), picked up and folded all their discarded clothing neatly in the laundry basket (ignoring Gibbs’ voice in his head asking him who folds their dirty clothes to put them in the basket because, obviously, he does) and is looking around the room for more things to tidy up.

“Get in bed, honey,” Gibbs puts his arm around Tony’s waist, kissing his neck from behind.

“I’m just…”

“Looking for things to clean up, I know. It’s all perfect. I left the sheets soaking like you like.”

“Good I’ll take care of that in the morning.”

“I know. Now get in bed.”

Tony smiles and crawls into bed with Gibbs, plastering himself onto Gibbs’ chest after the older man turns the lamp off and settles himself down. Gibbs pulls the covers over them, ensuring that Tony is covered securely.

“So, Bishop knows about us,” Tony sighs.

“She figure it out?”

“Yep.”

“I knew she was a good addition to the team,” Gibbs says smugly.

“Yep. You were right,” Tony grins and plays with Gibbs’ nipple idly, making it stand up, loving the sharp intake of breath from the man.

“Fornell knows,” Gibbs says.

“Fornell?”

“I was holding your hand while I slept at your bedside.”

“He say anything?”

“Nah, took it in stride.”

“Cool.”

“Ducky knows too.”

“How? Same? Hand holding?”

“In the hospital, I kissed you when I had to go interrogate Stowe. In front of him.”

“Well, that would kind of give it away, Jet. What else did you do to me while I was all roofied up?” he asks playfully.

“Couldn’t help myself. That asshole took you,” Gibbs begins bristling at the memory.

“Shhhh,” Tony strokes the tension out of Gibbs’ shoulders and chest. “I’m fine. See? Right here. With you.”

“Where you belong.”

“Where I belong.” Tony offers his lips up for a kiss, and Gibbs leans down to oblige.

“Think we should tell the others?” Gibbs sounds skeptical.

“What would be the point? It would just be cause for speculation and gossip. Especially after this op? Balboa heard recordings of our therapy sessions and came up and told me he thought you and I needed to figure some stuff out to ensure we could continue to work together. Apparently we have ‘unresolved issues’. If people knew we were married, there’d probably be a pool going about when you get your fourth divorce. Can you imagine? They’d all think they know what our issues are. As if we’d drag our real and current issues into an op,” Tony says with disgust. “How unprofessional.”

Gibbs hugs Tony tight. “No more divorces for me,” he says softly. “You happy the way we are?”

“Definitely. You?”

“Very.”

“Then who cares if we continue to keep us quiet? I’m not ashamed or anything. Didn’t lie when Bishop asked. It’s just none of anyone’s business. They’ll just want to talk us to death about things.”

Gibbs laughs. “ _You’re_ complaining about people wanting to talk?”

Tony bites his chest, causing him to yelp.

“Hey! That hurt!”

The younger man kisses the spot, and soothes it with his tongue while Gibbs gently runs his fingers through Tony’s hair and rubs his scalp.

“I just mean, they’ll just analyze and over-analyze our relationship,” Tony continues, propping himself up on an elbow, looking down into Gibbs’ face.

“And you do that enough already, all by yourself.”

Tony grins at him. “You know I do. Plus you know how much I dislike talking about ‘things that matter’.”

Gibbs pulls him down for a long kiss. He sighs and caresses Tony’s cheeks. “I’m sorry I made you do this op with me.”

Tony sighs. “We talked about this already. Had to be done. And we caught the guy.”

“He roofied you.”

“Meh,” Tony shrugs. “At least I didn’t have to be chained to him, or be dragged through the sewers this time. All in all, given my track record, I got off easy.”

“True,” Gibbs chuckles.

“Therapy wasn’t too awful, I guess. Besides, it was kind of fun to dredge up some of those early arguments we used to have. We haven’t had a good screaming match in a while. Kind of nice to have one about stuff we’ve already figured out. ‘Therapeutic’, you could say,” Tony grins.

“You were really good. You actually had _me_ convinced I never tell you I like your cooking. Seriously, that reminds me, when are you making that pasta with the meat sauce that I liked? Wild boar, didn’t you put that in that one time? Fuck, that was awesome, honey,” Gibbs’ eyes sparkle at the memory.

Tony laughs. “I’ll see about getting the meat. And you’ll have to talk my boss into getting us a weekend not being on-call sometime so I can make my husband what he wants to eat. That’s like an all-day meat sauce.”

“And I haven’t thought about that quinoa dessert in years!” Gibbs laughs. “You and your bright ideas. If I recall correctly, we had to throw the whole casserole dish you made that in, it was so vile and wouldn’t wash off?”

Tony chuckles. “That was quite the dish. If you’re not careful, I’ll make it again just to punish you.”

Gibbs shudders. “Fuck, I’d never do anything to deserve _that_.”

They lie in comfortable silence. “The sex is definitely better now,” Tony muses. “Maybe cause I’m older and appreciate it and you more? And we know each other so well now that I can see how it would be easy to just do what we know we like, but you’re always trying new things.”

“You, too, honey. I’m definitely liking your yoga obsession, you’re more flexible now than you were ten years ago,” Gibbs says lasciviously, making Tony laugh again. “I feel sorry for those poor saps who don’t take the trouble to keep it exciting in bed even years later.”

“Maybe we’re just really into sex?”

“I know you are.”

“Fuck you,” Tony says without rancor. “Do you think I’m boring now that I don’t initiate sex in public places and at the most inappropriate times?”

“Boring? You?” Gibbs laughs. “Never, honey. Besides, wasn’t it just the other day you sucked me off in the elevator when I was supposed to be in MTAC?”

“You were overly stressed.”

“Well, I wasn’t after that,” Gibbs leans down to capture Tony’s lips in a gentle kiss. “You always know what I need when I need it.”

Tony smiles. “Comes from all the years we’ve been together.”

“You don’t think I withhold myself from you, do you?” Gibbs says hesitantly.

“No, Jet. I don’t. The you at home isn’t the you we get out there.”

“Good, cause if I do I don’t mean to. I’d want you to tell me if I treated you wrong.”

“We’re good, Jet,” Tony rubs his cheek on Gibbs’ chest soothingly. “I wouldn’t have married the you you present to the world, you know. He’s hard to take sometimes. Kind of a bastard?” he teases gently.

“Same here. The public Tony can be exhausting. So many masks, too good with the smoke and mirrors.”

“But not with you. Not anymore.”

Gibbs kisses him. “Nope. Not anymore.”

“You’ve always seen through my bullshit chatter, anyway. I couldn’t hide from you even if I wanted to.”

Gibbs tightens his hold around the younger man. “I’m still sorry I had to drag you to therapy. And make you talk about your father.”

“We had to sell it. Nobody would believe it if _you_ ran out of the room in distress.”

“You don’t think I could sell that? Running out of a room?”

Tony raises his head and stares at Gibbs, one eyebrow raised, until Gibbs grins sheepishly.

“OK you might have a point there.”

“You know I’m right,” Tony says smugly. “And once we brought him up, it was obvious we had to use Senior to get more appointments urgently.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Gibbs says again.

Tony smiles at him. “It’s OK. At least the man is good for something now, right? Anyway, I barely even remember the session with Frank that last day. It’s still all so fuzzy. Saw the cam footage a couple of days ago, and I still don’t remember being there for almost all of it. I probably hurt you more with the crap I was yelling at you that unfortunately for you, you do remember.”

“I’m just glad you’re OK. I know how hard that part was for you. How draining. At least you’re spared remembering it fully.”

Tony sighs and lays his head on Gibbs’ chest, listening to the steady heartbeat, grounding him. Always calming him and grounding him. “He did beat me,” he whispers, after a long silence.

“What?”

“My dad. It wasn’t very often. But unpredictable. Probably drunk off his ass. But he did beat me sometimes. After my mom died. For all the reasons I told you that day.”

Gibbs’ snarl is deep in his throat.

“And the reason why I didn’t want to ever tell you is because I don’t want you to kill him,” Tony continues softly. “Not because I don’t trust you with this part of me. I trust you with everything. Always have. Always will. You never have to earn it again.”

“How badly did he hurt you?”

Tony sighs. “Doesn’t matter anymore, Jet. He can’t do it again. It’s not important.”

“How badly?” Gibbs grates out, his anger at picturing his Tony being hurt by someone who was supposed to protect him, to love him, to be his father, a red hot flame in his body.

“Don’t hurt him?”

Gibbs takes a deep breath, trying to squelch his rage. “Fine.”

“Bruises. Black eyes. Broke my ribs a couple of times. Broke my arm once. That’s when he sent me to boarding school.”

“Nobody noticed? Nobody helped you?”

“He’s a real charming guy. You’ve met him. Everyone loves him. Even me.”

“Fuck!”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Tony says, and his tone is final. Gibbs stops his questions, knowing that if he pushes further, Tony will get out of bed and go downstairs for a while.

They stay in each other’s arms, but this time the silence is filled with tension. Finally Gibbs sighs. His hands absently move over Tony’s head, shoulders, back and ass, touching, caressing, kneading softly. “I love you, Tony,” he finally says.

“Love you too,” Tony kisses the lightly-haired chest, smiling.

“No, Tony. I _love_ you. The way I love Shannon. As much as I love Shannon. At least as much as.”

Tony freezes, and his eyes fill with tears at Gibbs’ words.

“Always wanted to tell you that, but thought it was too sappy. But, when we found you, first I thought he’d already cut your throat. Then I wasn’t sure if you’d been poisoned. I thought I was going to lose you. That you would never wake up. And all I could think of was that I never told you that. Kept telling you that while you were unconscious, hoping that would make you come back to me.”

“Well, it worked, Navy Guy,” Tony finally says when his brain wraps itself around Gibbs’ words, not hiding the tears in his eyes. “Here I am.”

“Here you are indeed, Tube Socks. I love you,” Gibbs gently brushes Tony’s tears away.

“Love you too,” Tony smiles at him, a smile filled with love and devotion, one that Gibbs knows no one but he has ever seen. “It wasn’t too sappy, Jet. Thank you for telling me that.”

They kiss, a long, languorous kiss. Then Tony settles back down, his head tucked into the crook of Gibbs’ neck, yawning. “Think my boss will mind if I’m late to work tomorrow? I’m wiped out.”

“He might give you a headslap.”

“Don’t tell him but I do enjoy the headslaps.”

“Probably why he still doles them out.”

Tony drops a final kiss on Gibbs’ shoulder before he falls asleep. Gibbs lies awake for a long time, plotting different schemes to punish Senior somehow, in a way that not even Tony would suspect him. He wonders if he should get Abby’s help, but quickly discounts it. When Senior gets his due, he will know who caused it, he thinks grimly. His thoughts wander back to the man in his arms, with his strange quirks, incessant chatter, dry wit, gentle laugh, unending courage, fierce loyalty, deep love and hidden raging anger. They have been very lucky to have had each other for as long as they have. He decides to take Tony out for dinner soon, someplace nice, just because. And maybe invite Ducky over to dinner with them sometime since Ducky now knows. They could even wear their real rings at dinner with Ducky, if they wanted to.

In the dark he grins to himself, caressing the toned muscles of Tony’s back and arms. Desire lances through his body. He should be ready to go again by morning. If Tony is late to work it will be because he might have two sets of sheets to wash in the morning. His boss might forgive him his tardiness then. He kisses the top of Tony’s head, smiling when the younger man sighs and rearranges himself around Gibbs in his sleep, still plastered to his body. Placing one hand possessively on the curve of Tony’s hard, muscled ass – his honeybuns – he closes his eyes, sighs contentedly, and goes to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My original idea for this fic was it was to be a short, funny piece where Tony and Gibbs (who are secretly married) to go undercover as a married couple, and they discuss issues that sound plausible but turns out to be completely untrue after they are outed to their team. Obviously things got a lot more serious. But my basic idea was that Gibbs and Tony are a secretly married couple, and in fact, are very stable and secure in their relationship with each other, and this I feel I did carry through. While Gibbs knew that this op would hit too close to home, he also knew that their relationship is strong enough that they can weave in many lies into their actual story, include many old issues that they have already worked through and sorted out, and also even the difficult subject of Tony's father, without damaging what they have together.
> 
> Hopefully the epilogue shows us that.
> 
> And since I have been giving you guys the music I listened to during the course of writing a couple of the other pieces, here are a few of the songs that I played over and over while I wrote this story (click on the link to listen, if you like):
> 
> * [Goodbye](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QzDXOOje9Ow) (Hootie and the Blowfish)  
> * [Cannonball](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lJbz5HaKCJc) (Damien Rice)  
> * [Golden Slumbers](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t9rCqAwmBDM) (Ben Folds)  
> * [Golden Slumber - Carry That Weight - The End](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4spkG8LizyE) (The Beatles)  
> * [Blackbird](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mo_DMGc2v5o%22) (The Beatles)
> 
> Again, many many thanks for all your excellent kudos (even to those who hit the button multiple times just because) and your thoughtful comments! :D :D I hope you liked how this story ended!
> 
> -Jane  
> xo


End file.
